


Vulnerable

by ioverheardthis



Series: Regardless [2]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, M/M, no rape just the drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioverheardthis/pseuds/ioverheardthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>adj</em>.<br/>Susceptible to physical harm or damage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> Mizuki's bar is a lot bigger and rowdier in my head when I'm writing, and I always put "bartender" before "tattoo artist" when I think about him so this is sort of a way for me to address that. Mizuki wants to be a tattoo artist who bar tends, not the other way around. I think when Mizuki bought the place, it was just a small bar with an extra room that he made the tattoo studio. The design you see in the game is actually the calm hangout that Mizuki turned Black Needle into, rather than what the building looked like in the early days.

Mizuki didn’t think he had ever hit someone so hard; his hand ached and his knuckles were torn from the blow. He was getting blood all over Aoba as he carried him upstairs to his apartment, but he had no other choice.

A loyal member of Dry Juice, Takumi took over bartending without question the moment Mizuki gathered the nearly unconscious Aoba into his arms. A young, unfamiliar man, had been watching Aoba flirt and joke with Mizuki at the bar for almost an hour before intervening and then slipping a drug in the drink he bought for him. Mizuki didn’t see the incident, but noticed Aoba’s reactions. Aoba was a lightweight for sure and he was on his third drink, but as an experienced bartender, Mizuki unfortunately -- but at the same time _very_ fortunately -- recognized the difference between drunk and drugged. A very lethargic Aoba was making to leave with the pushy guy, and he never left with anyone.

Mizuki vaulted the bar, much to a few gasps and even a yell, and pulled Aoba away from the disgusting man. When the man started to protest, starting with the “he wants to leave” excuse, Mizuki clocked him. He may have been a few inches shorter than the guy, and much skinnier too, but he had always been an impressive scrapper and knocked the guy to the floor with a single punch. A few other members of Dry Juice stepped in before the guy could get up and start fighting back, and it gave Mizuki a chance to get Aoba out of there. From experience, Mizuki knew calling the police would do nothing; they came in, shook their heads and said they never saw the incident happen, even when they watched Mizuki care for the victim.

One of Dry Juice’s newer members, Hiroko had also been in the bar at the time, and under Mizuki’s orders, grabbed Aoba’s bag and followed her leader up to his apartment. She got the key out of Mizuki’s pocket and held the door open. She also helped take off Aoba’s shoes, asked if there was any other ways she could help, and showed herself out when Mizuki thanked her.

Mizuki carried the now blacked out Aoba to his room. He was completely limp in Mizuki’s arms, but even his dead-weight was light. The thought of how easy it would’ve been for that man to carry him home terrified Mizuki to the point of tears. He laid the boy as comfortably as he could on the bed, then sat down next to him. Aoba was breathing fine and had a normal pulse. To someone who hadn’t seen what just happened, he appeared to just be sleeping heavily. After brushing his hair out of his face and making sure he wasn’t laying in an awkward position, Mizuki left. He returned with a glass of water to set on the bedside table, then grabbed an extra pillow from the bed and a blanket from the closet. The last thing he wanted is for Aoba to wake up frightened next to someone in bed, so sleeping on the couch seemed sensible.

While making dinner, he messaged Takumi thanking him for taking over and informing him he would not be leaving Aoba. Takumi messaged back that he understood and Mizuki promised this would count for overtime.

In the shower, he could only think of what happened. He ran on autopilot, lost in his thoughts. When he bought Black Needle, the waiting area for the shop had been transformed into a bar, and that’s what attracted him to it. However, the bar was a rowdy place given its size; it was too small to hold members of different Rib teams. Since Mizuki bought Black Needle, he had been putting money back to refurbish it into his vision. He wanted a nice hangout for his team where other teams could come in by appointment and get tattoos, but for right now, he had to do what he could to make enough money to realize his dream. There were many fights given that the small bar was open to the public, but most of them were cause by rivaling Rib teams. Mizuki was usually the one putting himself in danger to break up the fights and he caught most of the people that would slip drugs into an unsuspecting victim’s drink, but this was earning Black Needle the reputation of being unsafe. Now Aoba had almost become a victim because of Mizuki’s bar. Aoba was a menace; he terrorized anyone who would even look at him too long, but nobody, _nobody_ deserved anything like that. Aoba’s reputation didn’t matter, his clothing, his language, his age, his hair, nothing mattered - _no one_ deserves it or asks for it.

* * *

In the late morning, Mizuki was pulled out of his mental recap of last night by the signs of Aoba in the bathroom. He figured it was a little early for the boy (however, it was a little after ten o’clock), but Aoba probably felt terrible. He was also most likely using Mizuki’s toothbrush. Mizuki grinned as he rose from the couch.

“‘Morning, Aoba!” he called through the house, loud enough to be heard in the bathroom. There was no answer, but not that Mizuki expected one - he really just wanted to let Aoba know he was there. He heard the shower running, so he slipped in and laid some fresh clothes on the bathroom sink; some were Aoba’s that he left here, and some belonged to Mizuki.

Aoba emerged a while later. He looked tired, but okay. Overall, he appeared comfortable in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black shirt, and his hair was fixed - all the tangles from last night brushed neatly out. The only thing that signaled something may be wrong was the face he wore; a mixed expression of worry and shame.

Mizuki made room for him on the couch. “How you feelin’?” he asked while Aoba shuffled over.

He didn’t answer, sinking into the corner of the couch and pulling his feet up. “What happened?”

This timidness was so bizarre that Mizuki stared for a moment. “What do you remember?”

Aoba shook his head while wrapping his arms around his knees, his lips curling in disgust. “What do you fucking think!? Just… letting that fucking man buy me a drink, and then I blacked out. Fuck me, I’m so stupid.”

“You are not stupid,” Mizuki said firmly, laying a hand over Aoba’s knees when he buried his head onto them. He was shaken off. “Don’t fucking start, Aoba. You know it isn’t your fault.” Even if he used harsh words, his voice was gentle.

“I destroyed him in Rhyme.”

“So what!? There is _no excuse_ for drugging someone.”

Aoba had started to shake at some point, and Mizuki thought he might be crying, but upon looking up, his deep-set frown revealed that he was furious. “Fuck him,” he spat, eyes downcast.

Mizuki reached out his hand to ground Aoba, but was smacked away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Mizuki wasn’t taken aback or offended - just worried. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Tears eventually welled in Aoba’s sunshine eyes, and whether they were of anger or fear, Mizuki didn’t know. He would guess both. He understood that Aoba’s struggle for power over every circumstance came from a very vulnerable place because he could relate, and now Aoba had faced a situation that he was completely powerless to control. Aoba told him before he wanted nothing but to destroy the people who opposed him, and he was sure those feelings hadn’t changed. He wasn’t so much worried of what Aoba would do, more how it would affect him.

“What happened?” Aoba asked again in a shaky voice, still not looking at Mizuki.

“You never left the bar,” Mizuki replied. “I got’cha, kiddo,” he added affectionately.

At that, Aoba scooted closer and rested his head on Mizuki's shoulder. Now he was showing his true age of barely 18. He had grown up way too fast on the streets, never getting into hardcore drugs, but learning how to handle himself in the fights he caused. He never had to worry about the backlash of others because he always dominated the situation. Now the backlash of others would always be present in his mind with whatever he did; not only the fights he won, but how he dressed, spoke, and acted.

“Rhyme is a game,” Mizuki said, wrapping an arm around Aoba’s shoulders. “A fighting game. There’s a winner and a loser, and you won. He lost, and it’s not your fault he attacked you afterwards. This doesn’t make you weak; it makes him a coward. You’re not weak, and he knew that.”

Aoba was looking at the bandaged hand on his shoulder and gave a tearful laugh. “You fucked up your hand, huh?”

“You should see the other guy,” Mizuki replied with a fake cockiness, smiling when he made Aoba laugh again.

Aoba sought more of Mizuki’s comfort by throwing his arms around the older man’s neck. Mizuki held him tighter and tried not to make a big deal out of his surprise. He was the resident therapist for his team, but he had never held Aoba like this. Aoba never needed held like this. But he was just a kid, and he had just suffered a frightening experience.

“You know, Allmates can pick that up,” Mizuki said. “Drugs, I mean.”

“Maybe I should keep mine on,” Aoba muttered, turning to look at his bag on the coffee table where his small dog Allmate lay in sleep-mode.

“Yeah... and maybe I should get one.”

“It’s just… I don’t know. It’s one of those things you think won’t ever happen to you.” Aoba nuzzled into Mizuki’s neck, but he was probably just wiping his nose on his shirt. “And then it’s hard to believe when it does.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” Mizuki said gently, trying to refrain from rubbing Aoba’s back or anything more affectionate than just providing comfort. He might get his ass kicked for it. Aoba was so calm - almost docile in his arms. It should be alarming; Mizuki was prepared to hold back a fight, but Aoba just seemed tired. That was understandable. "But I'm sorry that it did... It's gonna be okay, though."

Mizuki did his best not to react when he heard Aoba give a small sob. He had seen Aoba cry plenty of times and knew what to expect. Aoba would always sob for a maximum of ten minutes, dry his tears, blow his nose, and then he was fine. This time was no different. Mizuki eventually got up to fetch Aoba some tissues from the bathroom, and after blowing his nose, he calmed down. He always pouted for a while after he cried, and Mizuki didn’t say a word to him; it was easier for both of them that way.

* * *

When Aoba joined Mizuki in the kitchen, he didn’t sit at the small table like he usually did. Instead, he hovered behind Mizuki at the stove, and eventually rested against his strong back. Mizuki smiled over his shoulder at Aoba when those slender but powerful arms wrapped around his waist.

“What’s up?” he asked, a little amused. He wasn’t too alarmed by the embrace; it wasn't anything new. In the past, Aoba used to think intimacy was the reason Mizuki cared for him, but that went away soon after when Mizuki kept rejecting him. Once they got older and Mizuki bought Black Needle, Aoba drunkenly hugged and kissed him on occasion and they shared a bed if they were both too drunk to care. He would never say they were in a relationship, but because of that, he didn’t mind Aoba’s closeness; the only shocking part was his soberness.

"I'm not eating that," Aoba finally said, voice muffled by Mizuki's shoulder blade.

"Yeah, I figured you'd be sick, but you should at least  _try_ \- "

"I mean, I'm not eating whatever the fuck you cook."

Mizuki laughed, shaking his head. "You're rude..."

As his only response, Aoba's hands inched down to Mizuki's hips and urged him to turn around. His expression was calm, rather than his usual apathetic one. It made him look his age and more beautiful than ever. Mizuki didn’t move, merely smiling until Aoba made the first one, and once he did, Mizuki instantly began kissing him back. He dropped the fork he held onto the counter behind him in favor of holding Aoba instead, and at the moment, that seemed like the greatest decision of his life; Aoba felt wonderful under his hands. The intial kiss didn’t last long. Aoba broke away first to gauge Mizuki’s reaction, and soon enough they were kissing again. Mizuki rubbed Aoba’s back, admiring how the soft cotton shirt complemented his muscles. Their kissing quickly escalated on Aoba’s part, but Mizuki did his best not to push the boy into anything he didn’t want. He tried especially hard to keep his hands strictly on Aoba’s back, knowing fully well just how much Aoba hated to be touched -- particularly his hair -- but it was getting difficult.

It wasn’t a mystery to Mizuki why Aoba had suddenly started kissing him. Even if Aoba didn’t like to be touched, he conveyed his feelings through physical contact - that is to say, usually through his fists. Aoba was in desparate need of comfort, but this also could be a show of gratitude as well, and that was the reason Mizuki stopped him when cold hands creeped up under his shirt.

“Aoba,” he said, his voice strained as Aoba simply began kissing his neck when Mizuki pulled away. “Stop.”

“Hm?” Aoba hummed - a ruse in order to ignore Mizuki.

“Stop.” Even if the word was breatheless, exhaled towards the ceiling, the meaning still held firm. He lowered his head to see Aoba’s slightly disappointed face, but it teetered on becoming his familiar apathetic mask.

“What the hell? Why?” he panted.

It took a few moments to remember why. Aoba kissed as beautifully as he looked, and it always made his head spin. “Just… because.”

Aoba pursed his lips and cocked his perfect eyebrows. “Why?” he asked again, his voice seductive but commanding.

“We’re not ready,” Mizuki sighed. It wasn’t technically a lie. Aoba certainly wasn’t ready, and he supposed he wasn’t completely ready either. They needed to on the same page. Aoba’s vulnerability spoke for him and he sought comfort from the man to whom he was appreciative. There could be a chance he also believed this is something Mizuki expected.

Aoba stared, his eyes flicking back and forth over his friend’s face almost suspiciously. Mizuki’s beliefs were proved true by how fast he agreed. His arms remained resting on Mizuki’s hips and he layed his head on his chest. “Fine.”

Mizuki kissed his forehead, swaying them gently. They had plenty of time to think about this - about the possibility of moving forward. Mizuki didn’t take it personally; Aoba kissed him a lot, recently, but he was well aware the last thing Aoba needed was a sexual relationship. What Aoba needed right now was to feel protected, and that’s what Mizuki would do.

“You’re okay,” he said lightly, his smile just as bright.

Their breakfast, however, was not okay. That morning, Aoba was treated to a fast food breakfast instead of Mizuki’s rather incompetent cooking due to the fact that he had burnt whatever was on the stove beyond recognision. For the rest of the day, Mizuki swore that it was technically Aoba’s fault, and Aoba claimed that was his plan all along.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say that nobody can tell me that Mizuki has an all male, or strictly "manly-man" team. I believe anyone can join Dry Juice despite race, sexuality, and gender. The treatment and characterization of women (and sexuality (even if it is a BL game)) is actually the one thing I would change about DMMd, but the only way I can do that is in fanfiction.
> 
> Anyway, I think that during _'that time'_ in Aoba's life, Mizuki was the one that grounded him and the voice of reason he needed while his was quiet.  
>  Thank you for reading part 2!


End file.
